


Afar No More

by GermanShepherd



Category: To the Ends of the Earth - All Media Types
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Masturbation, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:08:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23368966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GermanShepherd/pseuds/GermanShepherd
Summary: In a fit of desperation, Charles makes a mistake and kisses his closest friend - but Edmund doesn't see it as a mistake.
Relationships: Charles Summers/Edmund Talbot
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Afar No More

It was, of course, during the only four free, uninterrupted hours in his day that Charles simply couldn’t sleep. His bunk slammed repeatedly against the bulkhead, victim to the movement of the ship, which had increased in recent weeks. His powerlessness to reduce it, though it haunted him, was not the foremost thing keeping him up.

Charles smiled bitterly. Perhaps it had been a mistake to make Edmund - Midshipman Talbot, rather - a seaman. Not because Edmund was unsuited for it, though that was arguable, but because the four hours they now spent together on watch had become unbearable: too sweet, too painful. Charles had thought the time together would ease his feelings, but it had only deepened them. Instead of sleeping for several hours straight, he lay awake in his bunk staring up at the deckhead, trying not to think about Edmund’s voice, Edmund’s hands, Edmund’s words, Edmund’s smile – the genuine smile, not the conceited one.

Charles drew a hand over his eyes. The entire ship was full of pretence and play-acting. They had ignored all the ill will, malcontent, and suffering, and now two men were dead because of it. If, perhaps, nothing had to be hidden, then the ship would be a happier place, and perhaps they wouldn’t be sinking with every passing second. If nothing had to be hidden…

If nothing had to be hidden.

But of course things had to be hidden. Reverend Colley knew that. Captain Anderson knew that. Edmund, in all his righteousness and desire to do justice, knew that. What could have been brought out into the light had instead been pushed deeper down. Charles dared to wonder what it would be like, not having to hide.

He imagined Edmund with him. He imagined Edmund putting his arms around Charles and drawing him close. How Edmund's mouth might feel against his, the scent of his skin, the sound of his voice only used in privacy. What it would be like coming apart in Edmund’s hands. Charles’ hand moved down to assuage his desire. He couldn’t help thinking about Edmund, wishing they could be skin-to-skin. Charles clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore the guilt that rose in his throat as he finished. This never really helped. But at least it was something to do against the thoughts that became stronger with every middle watch and every conversation they had. He supposed all he had to do was bide his time until they reached Australia, and sail off, miles away from Edmund for the rest of his natural life.

Benét’s plan to stabilise the mast’s shoe succeeded. Against everything Charles had thought, it succeeded. The red-hot iron was hammered into the wood. The smoke rose, the charcoal wheezed out of the burning channel, and the wooden shoe pulled together, sturdy for the time being. Edmund saw it, too, with a look of horror and disbelief on his face. They would stay afloat for now, maybe even long enough to reach Australia. Charles knew he should be glad, but instead he was filled with bitterness and fear, and the fire smouldered in the back of his mind. Captain Anderson ordered Charles to the great cabin immediately after. As Charles ascended the ladders, he knew what was coming.

The door shut behind him. Anderson railed against Charles for obstructing naval operations and for discrediting a fellow officer, one who was brilliant and innovative, who would go far in his career, unlike Charles, who was dull and superannuated. This was a warning to Charles, the captain said, to follow orders and not to dissent from Benét’s judgment in the future. Charles fought to keep his composure, and when he was dismissed, he went straight to his quarters. He couldn’t look anyone in the eye. Not now.

Once he sat down on his bunk, he bored a hole in the floor with his gaze. The rest of the world fell away. He clutched the wooden bedframe and felt the blood drain from his face. At some point Edmund let himself in to the cabin and sat down on the bunk. Slowly, Edmund’s voice pulled Charles out of the depths of his humiliation. Charles worked up the courage to look at Edmund's reassuring, beaming face.

“You are worth a hundred Benéts – two hundred Andersons!”

Charles blinked in shock. How could it be that he’d found such a friend, in _this_ ship, of all places? _No one else would have come to offer comfort_ , he thought. _No one cares, no one but you, Edmund, even though you are still a prig of an aristocrat. It seems you are my only friend._

Completely without thinking, Charles leaned in and pressed his mouth to Edmund’s. As soon as their lips parted, Charles realised what he'd done and a wave of shame crashed over him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me…please forgive me, Mr Talbot, I – please, forgive me.”

Charles sprang to his feet and bolted out of his quarters. On his way above decks he cursed himself for being this way: vulnerable, soft, sensitive, weak, needful of approval. A single moment of thoughtlessness might well ruin him.

Edmund was perfectly on time for the middle watch that night. They hardly spoke, except to pass on comments for the log. Charles looked out over the water, but he could feel Edmund’s eyes on him almost the whole time. If every night was going to be like this, he might just have to find some way to get Edmund disrated from midshipman. Every time they crossed paths, Charles averted his eyes and recharted his steps. The hours could not pass fast enough. Eight bells came. Charles changed watch as quickly as possible and slipped away to the wardroom.

The next watch, however, Charles was not so lucky. The first bell rang and Charles leaned with his hands against the taffrail. Edmund stood next to him – too close – and Charles made to move away.

“Charles.”

He stopped, but made no sign of having heard Edmund.

“I must break this silence between us.”

He chanced a sideways look. Edmund seemed…amused.

“Come, Charles, may we not speak?”

Charles pursed his lips.

“Well, I will speak, if you won’t.” Edmund turned his head to see if anyone was nearby. “I believe you are overreacting.” He waited. “I do not _mind,_ Charles. You do not need to be ashamed with me.”

Charles turned at that. “I overstepped your bounds and I am sorry for it.”

Edmund leaned against the taffrail, too, his hand not an inch away from Charles’. “It’s alright.”

“We are on speaking terms, then?”

“Of course, old friend.”

Charles looked ahead again, a little more at ease.

“You needn’t worry.”

It was then that Edmund moved his little finger across the inch of space to touch Charles’ hand. No one else could have seen it in this darkness, not even if they were standing directly behind them. “Edmund?” Charles narrowed his eyes. “Do not mock me.” He pulled his hand back and strode away.

“I do not mock you.”

“What, then?”

“I am…” Edmund’s footsteps scurried up behind Charles to close the distance. “…Curious.”

“Curious?”

“I have been thinking on our earlier conversations. I have realised that you and I belong to different worlds.”

“Which worlds are we speaking of, Mr Talbot? You have already made it clear that we are of different classes.”

Edmund glanced around again, obviously scanning for listeners, a habit Charles was long accustomed to.

“I have…in the past, I have…” Edmund frowned and cleared his throat. “I was aware that two men may have close personal relationships with one another, and I was even aware of the nature of those relationships, to some extent, but until a few days ago, I had never truly considered what it might mean.”

“Mean?”

“I had not imagined what it might be like. How it might work.”

“Do not reduce it to such lewdness.”

Edmund frowned. “I am not referring to… _the act_ , not specifically. I am referring to that…that closeness, what such a relationship might entail.” His eyes rested on Charles' face, expectant, hopeful.

“What are you saying?”

“I am saying that, since you seem to know something of that world, that you might initiate me.”

“You do not know what you’re asking.”

“Don’t I?”

Charles’ throat closed up tight. Edmund looked marble-pale in this light, and his face was softened with a look of earnestness that Charles had not expected. Was he serious? Did he mean it?

“Do you?” Charles murmured.

Edmund swallowed. “I had always thought of such men as animals. Beasts. But I know you are not a beast. When you” – he paused meaningfully – “I was surprised to find that I was not opposed to the idea.”

Charles’ heart pounded, and he was thankful that the darkness hid the heat in his cheeks. This was cruel, Lord, this was too much. He was drowning.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” he said simply.

“May we at least speak more of it?”

Charles’ eyes flicked towards the ship’s wheel. “The glass is empty. We must turn it. Five bells.”

“Charles.”

The first lieutenant made his observations and ordered Edmund to mark them down. He’d hoped ship’s business would distract Edmund, because this was absurd, this was impossible, there was no way this could be a good thing for Charles, it would blow up in his face.

But.

Fortune had been kind enough to give Charles a glimpse, a glimmer of hope, and as any sailor knew, it was folly to let fortune pass by. So down he went, against his better judgment, to the passenger deck, and furtively entered Edmund's cabin with all the stealth he could muster. Edmund was perched on his bunk, almost as if he'd been waiting there for him.

"Charles," he said at a murmur. "I hope I did not offend."

Charles sat down gingerly next to him. "No. You did not offend. I simply…" He turned to look Edmund in the eye and was taken aback by the glow of the lamplight on his eyes. "I feel that…"

"I know I am asking much of you."

Charles blinked. It was true; Edmund was asking for a guide into new waters without offering anything in return. Not that he _had_ to offer anything, it was just that they were only friends, shipmates, nothing more.

"Charles."

Of course, Charles was inches away from this incredibly beautiful, sharp young man, and wasn't that treasure enough?

He leaned in, closer than a friend ever should, and cupped Edmund's cheek with his hand. Edmund's eyes rested on every part of Charles' face as if seeing him clearly for the first time.

"How do I…?" Edmund asked. "Is kissing very different from kissing a woman?"

Charles chuckled and wound his fingers into Edmund's hair. "I wouldn't know." He pulled Edmund in and pressed their lips together. Kissing him, properly, was as he had imagined; Edmund's lips were the fine curves of a Greek statue's, his skin was silky-soft under Charles' hands, and his near-hairless chin was smooth against Charles' stubble. Edmund pulled away ever so slightly, and Charles stole one last touch before he leaned back.

"So, is it? Different?"

"Why, no." Edmund grinned. "And yes." His eyes rested on Charles' lips. "You are" – he barked a laugh – "it is foolish to say, but you are masculine."

"I am a man. That is the whole point."

"I believe I like it."

Charles swallowed, noting his choice of the word 'it', not 'you'.

Edmund lifted his hands to Charles' face, ran his knuckles over his jaw, and then ran his hands over Charles' wool-clad chest, resting just below his collarbone.

"Like this?" Edmund whispered. He leaned in close and let one hand run around Charles' side and down his back to rest just above his buttocks. Charles' eyes fluttered shut and he breathed Edmund's name. Edmund's other hand reached up again to caress the hair behind Charles' ear. Heat rose in his cheeks and his heart began to race. Edmund leaned in further. His breath ghosted along Charles' neck, making Charles shudder.

"Edmund," he whispered again, feeling the desperation rise in his chest. "Edmund…"

"Yes?" he replied, nuzzling along Charles' jaw, and then capturing his mouth with another kiss, deep and slow. "Is this alright?" Edmund said, catching his breath.

"Stop," Charles replied. "Please, I…I think that is enough. You do not know how hard this is for me."

"I know that this is a very private matter for you." He sat back and folded his hands. "I am sorry if I have made you uncomfortable."

“No, you have done nothing wrong. But I cannot continue. Not when it is an empty gesture on your part.”

“On my part?”

Charles put his head in his hands and heaved a sigh.

“What is it, Charles?”

“I have been…in strife these past few months, in the same way you have been about Marion.”

“You mean you have been lovestruck?"

"Yes."

"With whom?”

Charles looked up at Edmund, his face pained. “You, Edmund.”

Edmund looked taken aback. His mouth opened and closed several times as he understood each piece of the puzzle. Charles watched this process and grew more afraid by the second. But then Edmund reached up, twined his fingers in Charles’ hair, and pulled him in for a kiss. Startled, Charles froze for a second as Edmund’s soft lips pressed against his, then Charles gave in to his senses and dared to kiss him back. He tried to find as many ways to fit their mouths together as he could, knowing this wouldn’t last forever. He caught Edmund’s lip between his own. He brushed his fingertips against the underside of Edmund’s jaw. The next thought he had was that none of this was real; Edmund didn't love him; didn't really want him. He might have been curious, but not about Charles. They stilled and caught their breath. Slowly they lowered their hands from each other.

Charles swallowed, trying to force down the lump in this throat. “You are kind.” He tried to smile, but it was a sad smile, and Edmund frowned in response.

"Charles, what…?"

"Must I spell it out for you?"

Edmund's eyes were dark and round, all credulity and faith. Charles took a deep breath, steadying himself for the inevitable rejection and shame.

"Edmund, I love you. I cannot bear being this close to you when you do not feel the same."

Edmund visibly deflated; his face fell and his shoulders slumped. "Must _I_ spell it out for _you_?"

Charles froze. "What?"

"I admit, I was taken aback when you kissed me, when I was in your quarters. I did not realise that you were – that you had those tendencies. And I was surprised that I was not averse to it."

"You have already said."

"I wanted more, Charles. I wanted _you_."

Charles blinked, taken aback. "Forgive me, but this is quite unexpected."

"Have we not spent most of our time together these past weeks? Have we not shown each other the closest friendship?" He tilted his head and on his face was the most honest and open expression Charles had ever seen on him. "I understand that it seems sudden. I did not truly know it myself until you…well. And so I contrived to discover it further with you. But had I known that you were so tortured by this, that you did not realise that I am, in fact, drawn to you…then I am sorry I did not make it clearer. I am too accustomed to subtlety." He raised a hand to Charles' cheek. "You are the gentlest, most virtuous man I have ever known. I know I am not worthy of you, but I" – he gathered himself up, the way Charles had seen him do when he was about to deliver a speech – "I hope you do not find me lacking."

Charles stared at him.

"So? What do you say?"

"I cannot even begin to…you mean it?"

"Of course I do."

Overcome, he choked out Edmund's name. Charles flung his arms around him and pulled him tight, hoping his embrace would communicate the words he could not speak out loud, all the things that had tortured him. The longing, the isolation, the burning – worst of all, the thought that Edmund would have scorned such 'beastliness', that he would find Charles' affection for him abhorrent. There were many things Charles could have said, things like _Do you know how I hang on your every word? Do you know how beautiful you look under the midday sun? Do you know how your laugh makes my heart twist?_ but it was not like him to wear these things on his sleeve.

Four bells in the middle watch. The wind whipped Charles' face and he pressed a hand to his nearly numb cheeks. The dead dark of the early morning lay across the ship, cold and thick, but Edmund and Charles stood near the lantern on the quarterdeck, sheltering in its glow. Charles risked a glance at his friend, now closer-than-friend, who at this moment knew him better than any soul alive. He smiled to himself. Edmund faced into the sharp wind, his eyes shut almost meditatively, caught in some rapturous state. Their hands on the taffrail, Charles inched closer and let his fingers brush against Edmund's. The darkness hid their contact, but there was light enough to see the expression of haughty confidence on Edmund's face. Charles chuckled to himself.

"To think that all this time, I suffered from afar," he said.

Edmund grinned. "Suffer from afar no more."

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in my WIP folder for literally two and a half years. It originally had a much sadder ending, but, y'know, stuff that.


End file.
